


Deep Blue

by moon_hedgehog



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic), The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Jekyll/Lanyon kind of in a bg, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Prophetic Dreams, TOTALLY :)), totally not inspired by this year's Call of Cthulhu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 09:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: In his dreams, Henry sees the sea.





	Deep Blue

In his dreams, Henry sees the sea. Fearsome and all-consuming, it stays on end with crests of waves, mingling with dark turquoise of heaven and swallowing the horizon line. Pebbles slide under his feet, the wing plays with his hair, and droplets of water sprinkle his cheeks. The next morning, he wakes up under soft kisses but feels only salt on the tongue.  
  
Robert personally brews him a cup of coffee, dancing in the kitchen with panoramic windows; Henry, though, has long been captured by a new and another, standing before his eyes picture, which he settles down to sketch immediately, locking in his studio in the attic. His husband can only take a deep breath and go away – the outlines of something wild and dangerous appear on a cream canvas, and Jekyll cannot be distracted at such moments.

 

In his dreams, Henry sees another person. He's quite short, dressed simply – in trousers with a rough buckle and a light shirt, - carries an inexpensive revolver in the side holster. Everything in him reminds of someone who is tired of playing tags with life and now just trying to enjoy every moment. In the evenings, he remains in his office alone, drinks strong whiskey and recites poems unknown to Jekyll. He is a private detective and seems to be very successful in this job.  
  
Pencil on a notebook, he's blurring, not wanting to show his face. Henry frowns because he absolutely doesn't know how to catch this elusive man, and when his spouse invites them to go to bed, only waves his hand in annoyance. He can't. Needs to understand more.

 

In his dreams, Henry sees sex. Not _sees_. His hips rest on someone else's waist, and his arms are wrapped around someone else's neck; he bites his lips in half-forgetting so as not to moan like a whore. His partner – isn't Robert, and in the morning it feels ill to scream. It becomes even iller when Jekyll realizes that the raging, overturning ships and boiling sea on his canvases is somewhat connected with that elusive detective, and that elusive detective, in his charge, with the lust writhing in Jekyll's chest; the world becomes one big series of things to come. And he is scared, really scared – a thunderstorm hangs over their mansion day after day, while he hides in the studio, sobbing into own knees.  
  
One morning, a sun ray falls under his feet, and Henry looks up from the book, watching dancing sunbeams. They frolic near the old clock belonging to the Victorian era – the arrows on it have long been frozen, but under his gaze, suddenly begin to walk. 6:12, rather early hour, and Henry would probably have slept longer if not for damn insomnia. But perhaps, for the time being, wakefulness is exactly what he needs.

 

6:12 — shows the wristwatch on a hand of a private detective Edward Hyde, measuring raw boards of the port in steps.

 


End file.
